Carolyn Short has been assaulted with spit, blood, feces and hot soup.

“And everything else you could imagine,” she said.

As a longtime correctional officer, the Valparaiso grandmother also has been called every vile and derogatory name you’ve likely ever heard, she said.

“Is it a stressful job? The smell alone makes you want to gag until you get used to it,” she added.

Short started her career in 2001, working as a correctional officer at Lake County Jail and Westville Correctional Facility. She was 50. Her sister saw an ad in a newspaper. Short figured, “Why not?” after driving a school bus for a living.

“I always joked that I went from little criminals to big criminals,” she quipped. “You have to have a certain personality to deal with it.”

Carolyn Short

Carolyn Short worked as a correctional officer from 2001 to 2013, at Westville Correctional Facility and Lake County Jail.

Carolyn Short worked as a correctional officer from 2001 to 2013, at Westville Correctional Facility and Lake County Jail. (Carolyn Short)

Actually, you have to possess more than a certain personality. You need emotional armor to safeguard yourself from levels of stress that rank near military combat, according to a recent study published in the American Journal of Industrial Medicine.

Nearly 20 percent of correctional officers in the Washington State Department of Corrections expressed symptoms indicative of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, the study states. It’s a similar rate to veterans of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, and it’s higher than that of police officers, researchers concluded.

Working as a correctional officer involves some of the “toughest working conditions” of all workers in our prisoner-packed country, according to lead author Lois James. For example, CO’s, as they’re called, constantly fear for their safety, with nearly half of those surveyed saying they’ve witnessed an inmate assaulting another CO.

The last time I went to church, I sat there and thought, 'You people don't know what the real world is like.'— Carolyn Short

According to the study, female employees with a tenure of more than 10 years are more likely to suffer from PTSD, regardless where they work inside a correctional facility.

“I worked every job in Lake County Jail, from central control to the mail room,” Short said. “I even worked in booking one Christmas, all by myself on the midnight shift.”

According to the Indiana Department of Correction, there are roughly 7,760 IDOC employees, compared to roughly 26,000 offenders housed in correctional facilities across the state. This equates to approximately six offenders for every custody staff job, and 18 offenders for every custody staff per each shift, according to IDOC.

“Working in corrections can be a challenging career,” said Indiana Department of Correction spokesman Isaac Randolph. “Correctional professionals work in an environment where they must remain continually alert, often times spending their entire shift on an emotional roller coaster.”

“The intensity of the environment over time can have a physiological effect on those who are not properly prepared to deal with the reality of working in a prison,” he added.

Compounding the stress is that mental illness among inmates is a major risk factor, with only one third of prisoners receiving proper treatment, according to a 2017 report by the U.S. Department of Justice.

“I tried to treat them like human beings. Westville Correctional Facility stressed that it was not your place to judge them,” said Short, who’s been married for 42 years.

“I used to be a Sunday school teacher and went to church all the time,” she said. “The last time I went to church, I sat there and thought, ‘You people don't know what the real world is like.’”

She said her husband, Denver, reminded her that jails and prisons are only a small part of the population.

Michael Gill, of Lacrosse, was an inmate at Lake County Jail when Short worked there.

“She is an angel because she always had inspirational comments,” he said. “She took time to listen to you. She wasn’t quick to judge you, and she believed that you could do better.”

Gill, who served more than a year behind bars, said he’s turned his life around. Gill is a project supervisor for an environmental company and also owns CreditZap, he said.

Michael Gill

Michael Gill is a former Lake County Jail inmate who turned his life around, thanks in part to Carolyn Short.

Michael Gill is a former Lake County Jail inmate who turned his life around, thanks in part to Carolyn Short. (Michael Gill)

“This wouldn’t have been easily done if it weren’t for officers like Mrs. Short,” he said. “She was always there to listen and assist with correcting a situation. She took time out of her day and shift to make sure you understood what was happening.”

“These kind of officers are what you call a true inspiring guard, whose contribution to these facilities are beyond their job scope,” Gill added.

Short went through intensive training to become a CO, she said.

“We practiced shackling each other, and then had to walk around a big gym. You also had to be pepper sprayed so you knew what it was like,” she said.

Her daily job as a CO would scare away most applicants.

“You are locked into dorms with inmates walking around with you, and nothing between you and them,” she said. “In the 13 months I worked at Westville, it had a riot, two murders, and four escapes. There were murderers, rapists, drug dealers and child molesters.”

Short, who’s 67, retired as a CO in 2013. She invited Gill to her retirement party.

“I was scared to go,” Gill recalled. “A lot of correctional officers were present and everyone kept commenting about me being there. She noticed it was getting to me because she told them it’s her retirement party and she will have who she wants there.”

Short told me that she felt as if a “ton of weight” was lifted from her when she walked out the jail door for the last time.

“You were always afraid you’re going to do something that gets you or somebody else hurt. It’s a big responsibility,” she said.

She drives for Uber now.

In an upcoming column, I will share the feelings and experiences from the spouse of a correctional officer.